[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Superman: Earth One isn’t my favorite comics release of the week. Nor is it my least favorite. What the book is successful in doing is piquing my interest, making me wonder about the greater implications of retelling classic comics stories through a series of original graphic novels. Even upon the first read, I truly think that Superman: Earth One may have the power to change the comics industry – either by introducing new readers the beauty of the medium or reaffirming Hollywood’s belief that comics are merely storyboards for movies.

Take a breath. Take a sip of Diet Shasta Orange. Take a seat upon my weekly comics-rambling.

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[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

Edgar Allan Poe – writer extraordinaire or drug-addled lunatic?

Both.

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[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

Is eating a healthy breakfast a wise decision? Probably.

Is eating a bowl of monster-themed sugar-clusters a wise decision? Definitely.

The official breakfast of this year’s OCTOBERFEAST is the wonderfully horrific Frankenberry. Originally released with the infamous Count Chocula, this cereal has plastered saccharine smiles onto children’s faces for nearly forty years. The taste alone is worth raving about; strawberry-flavored corn crisps carry marshmallows directly into your tum-tum. Through the standard morning-meal process, any milk used is transmuted from that yucky liquid doctors and parents want you to drink into a lite-milkshake.

Perhaps more important than the gustatory experience is the fact that Frankenberry is a goddamn abomination. That’s right, America, we’re feeding our children a food with Frankenstein’s monster as the mascot. You realize that Frankenstein’s monster symbolizes aspiration corrupted, the dream that we pursue so zealously that we lose sight of how grotesque it’s become, right? We are, in essence, consuming our own wretched failures! And they’re delicious!

In the course of two days I have polished off an entire box of Frankenberry. I just couldn’t stop myself from going back for more. I felt obsessed, as though by eating the cereal I could be transformed into an athlete of superhuman capabilities. Yes, maybe I will try out for the Hanshin Tigers…

Don’t judge me, it’s the OCTOBERFEAST! My only concern is that the holiday-treat might play some tricks on my digestive track.

[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

A city such as Pompeii is buried by volcanic ash, just as the sands of time sweep over and blanket those falling short of greatness. Pompeii had little to offer the world at large and its ruins were the source of an accidental discovery almost seventeen-hundred years after its demise.

On the other hand, time only helps mythologize those fortunate enough to have achieved legendary status. A city such as Rome, whose epic downfall has served as a warning for future generations, is still lauded for its magnificence and regarded as Città Eterna — the Eternal City.

What type of city should a man strive to be — Pompeii or Rome?

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[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

It’s that time of year again. The undead are becoming restless, preparing for the annual night of domination. The ghouls are tearing off their flesh-masks, skulking about retirement home windows in the hopes of inducing heart attacks. Perverts are slipping roofies into the punchbowls, their lunatic cousins hiding razor blades in apples. And soccer moms are stocking up on candy.

It’s wonderful.

Clearly, there are a number of ways to get into the holiday spirit. Anyone who doubts this need only view the video for Thunder Kiss `65.

Younger readers may not know this, but before Rob Zombie was a kooky director, he was the kooky front man for White Zombie. My feeble descriptive skills tell me that White Zombie was a horror-oriented metal band that embodied the sloppy spirit of early `90s drug binges. But what do I know?

Anyways, the video for Thunder Kiss `65 is a perfect overture for OCTOBERFEAST. With half of the footage in black in white, the video summons the spectres and hauntings that blessed the Universal lot. A luchador drives a muscle car across a barren wasteland, only stopping to drink with Frankenstein’s monster and the grim reaper. Logically, leggy Go-Go dancers shake their stuff and psychedelic filters wash over the band. It’s a tantalizing cross-section of the different types of mayhem found at Samhain.

Trust me, you want to watch this.

If this video doesn’t get you pumped for a Saturday night in October, nothing will.

It’s back, muthafugga, it’s back.

If you followed OL in the formative days, you know all about the glory that is the Friday Brew Review. If you’re new to this scene, let me clue you in: I like the taste of beer. I like the way it makes me feel. I like its ability to make my jokes funnier and women seem more attractive. So for your benefit, I will drink cold ones and describe the experience.

It’s pretty straight-forward.

So after a sabbatical that saw me averting death, deciding on a career, and becoming a more positive member of society, I’ve decided to bring back the Brew Review. Truthfully, I can’t guarantee that I’ll toss one up every week. But what I can promise is that when I do unholster the gun, I’m going to smoke every motherfucker in the saloon.

That’s right, I’m like a retired gunfighter, being called out of retirement for one more fucking showdown.

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[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

“I’ll teach you to mess with my girlfriend, you dookie-tossin’ ape motherfucker! That’s right, I’m going to catch up to you at some point and when I do I’m going to blast a hole in your goddamn chest! No more of this swinging a hammer, hopping over barrels, climbing up ladders bullshit – I’m going to shoot you in the chest with a fucking gun!”

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From the moment I awake, there is no reprieve from the Beast. He chases me on my way to work, his hot breath burning the hairs off the back of my neck. All day he skulks about my place of business, steaming up my glass door and flexing his gargantuan muscles. He drools all over the floor and the janitor gets a second degree burn trying to mop it up. My co-workers lock themselves in their offices and bolt for the exit when they think he’s not looking.

Most of them make it out alive.

Finally, I clock out for the day. I pack my bags and grab my wallet. Walking to my car, I have no fear for I know I shall defeat the Beast.

His name is Comics and we battle every Wednesday.

Welcome to Variant Covers!

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[This! Is! Mad Men! is a recap of the newest developments of Don Draper and his lovable gang of capitalist sleazeballs. Sometimes it’s liveblogged, sometimes not. In the spirit of the show, the post itself will often be sexist and drunk. Apologies ahead of time.]

Why do we put up with the bullshit in our lives? Why do we drag our existences through the mud? Knowing that we only have one-way tickets on Spaceship Earth, why don’t we do more to enjoy the ride?

The short answer — most of us don’t even know.

Neither does Don Draper.

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